The food turned out to be as delicious as it smelled. The man who had called himself my servant brought me slices of thinly cut, lightly salted meat, fresh-baked yellowish bread, tangy vegetables, and a warm, heavily sweetened brown drink in a goblet. I ate as much of what was offered as possible, finding my capacity considerably below what it once had been, but being treated that well was nevertheless a too-long-absent pleasure. I basked in the solicitous attention the man showed, examining him covertly while I ate and made sure the fur continued to cover my bareness. He was broad-shouldered and deep-chested, as good-looking as most Rimilians were, and his smile of interest was backed by a carefully Controlled desire in his mind. I wasn’t used to seeing a Rimilian male controlling himself where a patently unclaimed female was involved, and the idea disturbed me. Was I being foolish in believing I was as unclaimed as I thought I was, or was something deeper involved?
When I’d eaten as much as my depleted body could hold, the man put the serving plates back on the wooden tray. I was expecting him to take the tray away again, but the hesitation in his mind suddenly became determination, and he turned away from the tray to look at me once more. A shadow of pain blinked in his eyes, echoing briefly at the back of his mind, and then he was on his knees beside me, his blue eyes filled with such calm, cool attraction that someone else would have sworn no other emotion had ever glistened there.
“Forgive me, dendaya, for disturbing you with requests, yet there is something I must ask,” he murmured, leaning somewhat toward me. “Later, when you are stronger and desire for me comes to you, I would not wish to be anything less than completely satisfying. Therefore do I ask the honor of being allowed your leavings, so that I will not fail to meet your expectations. Have I your permission for this?”
He was trying hard to look more attractive than hungry, and it came to me with a new shock that he wasn’t a servant but a slave. No servant would have to beg someone’s leavings, and no servant would accept the idea of being used so calmly. I didn’t know what had happened that made me important enough to be given a slave to serve me, but the idea both repelled and attracted me. Having been a slave myself made me uncomfortable with the entire concept of slavery, but having been treated so badly by men made me pleased at the thought of evening the score a bit. My ego had been badly bruised of late, and it needed as much care and feeding as my body did.
“Very well,” I said at last, keeping my voice cool and the least bit haughty. “As the action would be in my own best interests, you may have my leavings.”
His mind winced as his face smiled with gratitude, bat he didn’t let humiliation keep him from the nourishment he needed. He rose immediately and went back to the tray, then began stuffing food in his mouth. He didn’t finish anything on any of the plates, which was probably very wise of him. Most slaves aren’t permitted the food of their masters, and he’d be buying-trouble by advertising the fact that he’d had some. After the last of it he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, but still didn’t get to take the tray out. The wide double doors of the room opened suddenly, and a woman entered between the two men who had opened the doors. The men wore baggy cloth trousers, wide-sleeved, colorful shirts, heavy sandals, and weapons hanging from their leather belts, but the woman, although weaponless, was a much more imposing sight. She wore a long, butterfly-sleeved gown of bright red, V-necked in front, tight below her breasts then flowing unimpeded down to her ankles, matching soft leather sandals, and a red-dyed band of leather tied around her forehead. Her blond hair was very long and floating free, billowing out behind her along with her sleeves as she walked across the room. She was a very beautiful woman, and her mind and bearing showed how completely she knew her own importance. The male slave turned and immediately went to his knees, but the woman never even glanced in his direction.
“Excellent,” the woman said, coming up to my bed to look down at me with satisfaction. “You are awake and have eaten. I trust you are also nearly recovered from your ordeal?”
“So it seems.” I nodded, caution keeping my tone neutral. “To whom do I owe my thanks for such timely assistance?”
“I am Aesnil, Chama of all Grelana,” she announced, her head raising with pride as her green-flecked blue eyes made the statement a challenge. “It was my hunting camp you chanced upon in so strange a manner. I would know who you are and what befell you.”
“I am called Terril,” I answered, wondering if I was translating the word “Chama” correctly. “Chamd” was the word meaning “absolute ruler of all”; if “Chama” was its female equivalent, the woman before me had reason to be proud. “I am from a land far distant from here, one where little is known of those who dwell here. I was brought to this land by a l’lenda who wished to possess me, was then captured by savages, and was finally made bedin to Hamarda. The Hamarda grew angry with me and whipped me, intending to ultimately end my life, yet I was able to escape into the desert. After traveling a considerable distance, in much pain and without food, I found myself in your camp. My memory of the arrival is none too clear; should I have caused you distress, you have my apologies.”
“Totally unnecessary,” Aesnil said, waving away the need for apology as quickly as her mind dismissed the topic. “I was caused no distress by your arrival. So you were taken unwillingly by one of those swinish l’lendaa, were you? We here in Grelana have little liking for such practices, and take great pleasure in teaching those backward males their proper place. How is it your power did not protect you from being taken?”
The question was so legitimately offhand and casual that it caught me completely off balance. I could see from Aesnil’s mind that she wasn’t guessing; somehow she knew about my abilities.
“I do not understand your question,” I hedged, feeling my heart begin to beat faster. When they were sure I could do what they thought I could, what would their reaction be?
“When you arrived in my camp, two of my guards attempted to halt you,” the woman said, a faint impatience clear in her tone and mind. “You struck at them in some manner which was not physical, with a power which was felt by many in the camp. When you fell unconscious the attack ceased, yet my guards, who were closest to you, did not recover for some time. They have always proven fearless in my defense, yet they cowered in fear upon the ground till they had recovered. It was clear to me then that you possess some great power, and I would know why you failed to use it to protect yourself from the one who took you.”
To say I was stunned would be abysmal understatement, especially since I didn’t remember the incident. After being so careful for so long, how could I have done such a thing?
“The—power—is not always so strong,” I murmured. “Its use requires a good deal of effort on my part, and quickly drains what strength I have. Had your guards been aware of my ability to attack, they would not have been so completely overwhelmed. They would merely have resisted till my strength was gone, and then have done as they wished”
“So the one who took you knew of the power.” She nodded, her pretty face thoughtful. “Perhaps it is possible to increase your strength, and thereby increase the power as well. We shall soon see. I would now have you dress so that you might accompany me on a short walk. Continuing to lie abed will do little to increase your strength. I will await you in the corridor.”
She turned then and swept out of the room, drawing her guards out behind her. When the doors were closed again I slumped back against the pillows, afraid to ask what I was in the middle of that time. Aesnil had a lot of plans perking around in her mind, and I couldn’t quite believe any of them would be to my benefit.